Hashtag Hufflepuff
by xGlass
Summary: Ladonia is sorted into Hufflepuff. Is the world ready? Harry Potter AU, but characters from the book series aren't prevalent.


**HASHTAG HUFFLEPUFF** (#HUFFLEPUFF FOR SHORT!)

I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

**1. Own**

That stupid old saying about being careful what you wish for is true. Of all my wishes, this is the one that has to come true? Really, Fate? Really? Are you just fucking with me? I think you're just fucking with me. You'd better be fucking with me.

Thank God for my iPad. I honestly do not know what I'd be doing right now if I hadn't packed it. Thank God there is Wi-Fi. If there was no Wi-Fi I'd probably have to kill someone, my brother most likely.

You see, Fate, let me make something clear. Let me expound on my wish because obviously I was not specific enough. If you had questions, you could have _asked. _

When I asked to be sorted into a house that wasn't Ravenclaw, I didn't mean it. Well, I did, but I just didn't want to be with my brother. That was my intention. Avoid the brother.

You took my request in the wrong direction; you see, a house of my own was what I was after. You know, a place where I could not have my brother breathing down the back of my neck. He's creepy as fuck, okay. You know that. You already had to go and make him my brother. Cut me some slack.

But now I'm in Hufflepuff. Swell. Look, it's not Hufflepuff that's the problem. Fate, how did you not know my creepy brother's obsession is _also _in Hufflepuff?

He now has _two _excuses to creep into the common room: checking on me and stalking the object of his misguided affections. I don't need him to check on me. The poor bastard he's crushing on probably cried when I was sorted.

He has been stalking that boy since _they _were first years! Berwald knows the Hufflepuff routine! He knows what classes I have and where the entrance to the common room is and _how to get in _and which dorms are which and _fucking hell, Fate why did you do this to me._

I am going to have zero friends. Berwald's ugly mug is going to scare them away. Then people are going to think I'm that creepy, too. That it's some sort of Oxenstierna mutant gene.

That is not the case. I am much more attractive than my creepy-as-fuck brother. He just appears out of corners—_how does someone that tall fucking appear out of corners—_I already hate it here. I want to go home.

I can only hide in my bed for so long. Hogwarts sucks. Berwald sucks. I hate my life.

**2. Future**

Hufflepuff is _quiet. _As I reread _Hogwarts, A History _I find myself jealous. It's not that Hufflepuff is depicted as an exceedingly vivacious place, but I read about a sense of camaraderie that I've yet to see here.

It's because of the size. I'm sure of that. If we were a bigger house maybe there would be a stronger sense of belonging, but right now…

I'm the first first-year Hufflepuff has had in three years. Three years is a big gap. Raivis is nice and all, but he's a bit pathetic as a roommate. All the quivering and nervousness—hell, it's like he's never carried on a conversation before. Fortunately I am accustomed to communicating with people with social failure disorder (note aforementioned crazy brother).

After Raivis, there's Feliks, Matthew, Tino, Eduard, and Toris. That's it.

Seven of us inhabiting a space meant for seventy. It does make me curious why I need a roommate at all. It's not like we've got a shortage of space.

The other houses are larger. It's pretty obvious that Hufflepuff was hit hard by the war.

Because I had way too much time on my hands at Auntie's, I've done a lot of reading. I'd make a good Ravenclaw if it weren't for Berwald. Anyway, I decided it would be best if I started recording my thoughts. Documentation is vital for society to learn from its mistakes, and as the wizarding world strives to rebuild itself I think people are overlooking the simple task of _writing._

How much do you know? About the wars? There were a lot of wars: the one with Voldemort, the other one with Voldemort, the Uprooting after and then the Culling. Have we had another by the time you've read this?

I might be a first year, but I'm not dumb (regardless of what stupid Mathias says. He's a fucker anyway.) Somebody needs to keep track of what's going on in the world. Why shouldn't that person be me?

**3. Past**

As a scribe, my self-appointed duty is to write down things that matter. I should mention and make is perfectly clear I cannot stand Sebastiano Vargas. He is the definition of scum.

Because of the small size of Hogwarts, all four houses have classes together with other students their year. It means that I not only get no escape from the idiocy that is Peter Kirkland, but I am also forced to endure Sebastiano making eyes at Kylee. The whole situation is disgusting.

I will now refer to Sebastiano Vargas as the following in this paper: the Dickhead. I feel he deserves a capital D to make my point clear.

Kylee is tolerable if only for her mutual disinterest in the others. Meridian is… cute, if I can say so. I enjoy the way she braids her hair. I wonder if I had been sorted into Ravenclaw after all, would she and I actually be friends?

It's irrelevant because if I had been a Ravenclaw my crazy brother would scare her away. But I can enjoy watching her doodle in the margins of her notes from afar.

And that's it. That's my year: myself, Peter, Dickhead, Kylee, and Meridian. Pathetic, is it not? When compared to the past of course it is. When compared to the future, having a peer group may truly be a thing of the past.

Dickhead is Slytherin. I am the sole Hufflepuff. Peter and Kylee are Gryffindors and Meridian is a Ravenclaw.

I think we will end up being friends. This realization is most unfortunate.

As a good scribe, I should most likely clarify my explanations of the wars. You most likely know of Harry Potter's contribution to the first two wars—if you don't, I truly wonder about the state you're in—but the Uprising and Culling might be new.

The Uprising occurred in the late 20th century as "Y2K" approached. A new millennium sparked the interest of tons of astronomers and, um, those people who do the things with the circles on the ground in accordance with different holidays? Yes. I can't think of the exact term, but you get my point: new millennium and they all were batshit crazy excited about the potential power.

However, Minister Granger (you know her? Hero from war number two in case you're pathetic) wouldn't allow the rituals to occur at the millennium. She declared it illegal, and there was really quite a fuss. It's known as the Uprooting because people simply left England. Only England had those restrictions in place; other countries around the world had no such law. That's important to remember.

There are tons of rituals that can be done: ones for luck, wealth, even success. A millennium magnifies the effect by one thousand. It was a big deal in the wizarding community. Some people had been planning their ritual for years!

So a lot of people left for the "holiday" while Granger and a few other families stayed behind.

The enormous number of rituals triggered something no one expected: the muggles found out. The exact details aren't known to me, but the muggles started kidnapping people they thought might have been involved the Y2K curse. That's how they referred to it: it was like the witch trials all over again, but all over the globe.

Thousands of wizards died in the Culling, and thousands more innocent muggles died.

Our parents were found out; I was too little to remember exactly what happened, but Berwald got us out of Sweden into Denmark to Auntie's house. I suppose I ought to be more grateful, but Auntie is an absolute witch even if she has no magic.

Mathias is a complete bastard, but Berwald and I were lucky to find a place to stay. Mostly I hid in the room Berwald and I shared—we'll have to go back for the summers, but we can stay at winter break.

Berwald always came home at winter break for me. He didn't have to. He's a creep, but he can be a somewhat nice creep.

**4. Wounds**

Sometimes I wonder about what would have happened if we hadn't escaped. It's a morbid train of thought, and I am almost positive we would have died if we'd stayed in Sweden.

Hogwarts is only available because it's in England, and England escaped the Culling relatively easily because there were no rituals. The wizards and witches hid in their unplottable locations and waited out the storm. I don't blame them, but I also often wonder why Hogwarts was not used as a safe haven. If not during the Culling, why not after? Berwald and I could have avoided Auntie for years to come.

She's not really our aunt. Mathias isn't our cousin. I don't know why we have to pretend we're related at Hogwarts. Mathias probably pestered Berwald into doing it. Mathias is highly irritating.

I think of my house: the seven of us. Feliks and Toris have each other while Tino, Eduard, and Matthew hang out. Raivis tags along with Toris or Eduard depending on his mood and I sometimes feel so lost it hurts.

If Peter weren't so ridiculous I'd try to get along with him, but he finds amusement in such juvenile pastimes. It's mostly to annoy his brother, which I completely understand, but I just don't get excited about pranks. Kylee does. Those two can rope Dickhead into their schemes.

I'm a little surprised they've never pranked me, but I suppose Meri and I are safe because we're "friends," even if we're not. The older students, however, have no similar protection.

**5. Colors**

I have found a friend in Meridian. She and I sit outside together when we don't have classes. Meridian with her art—whatever medium she is using today and a sketchbook overflowing with loose leaf drawings—and myself with my iPad.

"Aron." She'll say, in her airy lit. "You're blocking the light."

She has a way with words.

I play plants versus zombies while she draws and pants and fills paper with her thoughts and dreams. I wonder if I am shallow by comparison because I don't dream in such vivid colors. I dream in words. Sometimes I'll type on my iPad as we watch the world go by.

I dream of the past. I dream of all that I've read. I dream of the future Harry Potter thought he was fighting for because this isn't it, this _cannot _be what he envisioned.

Harry Potter died in the Culling. Some people were killed in the trials, but it eventually dissolved into another war. Potter left his unplottable England location to fight for other wizards. I think that decision was a bit suicidal, but Gryffindors will be Gryffindors.

Meri clears her throat—it's a nervous habit with her, I think, something she uses to break my concentration so it's easier for her to start talking. But sometimes she doesn't say anything. I wonder if she does it purposely to break my thoughts when she thinks I'm becoming too maudlin. Hufflepuff is not the house for sulking, after all, but getting lost in daydreams.

My daydreams are maudlin, though, and when I come back to earth reality isn't much better.

**6. Ultimate**

"Do you think," Meri says one day when we're all studying in the library, "that we'll make it?"

Dickhead snorts. Peter smacks his arm. Kylee raises a brow.

"We'll make what?" Kylee tries to clarify. "Make it to class on time, make it to seventh year—"

"Survive." Meri states. "Do you think magic will make it?"

A heavy silence weighs our table down. Dickhead stares at the grain of the wood, brows furrowed. Peter tries to start talking but backs off after three attempts. Kylee seems at a loss for words.

"Yes." I say emphatically. Because that's what Hufflepuffs do. We believe.

**7. Old**

I often find myself in the library. It feels as thought I've read everything—Auntie's house was rather boring, after all, and Berwald would mail me library books to keep me entertained.

Perhaps I don't give my brother enough credit?

The library is old. It's warm. It's one of those places where I feel I can truly get lost and be _comfortably _lost—it's a place I love to lose myself in. Does that make sense? The common room is like drowning while the library fills me with a sense of exploration I never thought I'd experience.

I often take pictures of books, a picture of each page, to read during class. Because class is _so boring_, especially history of magic. I'd much rather read than listen to a ghost drone about goblin wars. Who cares about goblin wars?

Meridian, surprisingly, does not share my passion of books.

Peter is always pestering me about finding him spells to use in specific pranks, but none of the other students read. I think it's disappointing, especially when there are such lovely books waiting to be read.

Sometimes I find one that's laying out for me. I know it's from Berwald, and I read it because my brother knows what I like.

I don't give him enough credit. But still, he could just give me the book instead of leaving in out in the place where I always curl up to read. You know. Talk to me like a normal person? I forget Berwald's not a normal person.

**8. Ground**

There are no more trips to Hogsmeade. No vacation weekends. No lovers' getaways. I'm not old enough even if there were, but I think it's important to state that there aren't.

I think I've underestimated just how deeply the wizarding community is in hiding. The muggles think we're all dead, when really we're just hiding in England. Sometimes I wonder if the English know we're in hiding here, if they know they're providing a refuge.

Arthur Kirkland hints at it sometimes—he's a Slytherin sixth year. Pretentious and uptight but extraordinarily knowledgeable. It's reassuring to see someone older share my concerns about the world.

As I type on my iPad I often wonder if Meri's ominous statement is as much as my peers understand: will magic disappear? They're mostly concerned with the now, the present, what will immediately happen to them. They don't look past their own lives. They can't envision the future, which makes me question about the future. Will there be future? Is my goal completely in vain?

Will anyone even care? Will anyone understand? What if, by the time this document is found, the language has involved in some Riddley Walker sort of fashion and my words are completely useless?

It's all irrelevant anyway if I don't print my written words out—my iPad 's hard drive won't stand the tests of time. It makes me long for a laptop, but those don't work at Hogwarts. I don't understand how iPads work and laptops can't handle magic. It's stupid, is what it is.

Before you ask why I'm not keeping a blog on the internet, I hope you pause and consider how stupid that suggestion is. We're in _hiding. _Muggles patrol the internet like it's their god. You see where I'm going?

**9. Right**

Berwald often drops by our common room with the pretense of tucking me in. I am not a child, but he has yet to get the memo. I know he likes the fact I'm old enough to be here now—no longer a child stuck with Auntie. Berwald doesn't care for Auntie.

Whenever he was home for the holidays we'd share a room. My bedroom would change into our bedroom, and he'd get the bottom bunk because he's taller. I didn't like it because I preferred the bottom bunk.

I don't miss Auntie. I don't miss being "asked" to stay in my room while Auntie had company. I don't miss doing the dishes and going right back into my little place.

I was so bitter for so long because Berwald got to leave almost immediately. He didn't have to stay with Auntie that first year. He was old enough for Hogwarts. I think he realized what I'd been going through that first summer at Auntie's, but by then it was too late. The resentment had sunk in—not only did Berwald get to leave in the first place, but he came back and got the bottom bunk! I hated him for it.

I don't think I was fair to him. I don't think I am fair to him. He's got problems, yeah, but he does care for me. Perhaps I love him a bit, but in that sibling way where you never actually say anything.

**10. Travel**

It's Saturday and Meridian and I end up outside like we typically do. She's got a larger sketchbook, definitely the biggest I've seen yet. She's using watercolors; a bottle of water sits between us and she uses the cap to rinse her paintbrush between colors.

I'm on my iPad. I should probably confess that I stole it; technically, someone named Herman owns it, and Herman also bought me several apps. Did I steal someone's credit card? Would I do that?

Too bad they can't catch me because I'm in an unplottable area. I feel the need to use an emoticon. D

Like Auntie would buy me an iPad. Berwald is the one who let me know iPads work at Hogwarts (the Defense teacher uses one) and so it's his fault for planting the seed in my head (maybe he did it inception-style. That'd be badass.)

Anyway, I digress. The point is that as Meridian dumps the blackened water from the bottle cap she asks me what I want to do with my life.

"Travel." I blurt out, reflexively.

She nods as she concentrates on carefully refilling the cap. "Where to?"

"Anywhere."

It's not that I dislike England, but I'm from Sweden. _Sverige. _It's a shame I barely remember the language. I wasn't allowed to speak Swedish at Auntie's house; it was Danish or English or you be quiet, boy.

We fled Sweden when Berwald was eleven. He's seventeen, now. It's his last year at Hogwarts. I'm eleven, and it's my first year. He's six years old than me. I was only five when we had to leave our parents. I don't know if they told him to take me and run or what happened. I've asked, but the sad look on my brother's face has always kept me from pressing the issue. I want to know, though. I want to know about Sverige. I want to see it for myself. I want to explore, too—I have an atlas, and it's alarming how much there is to see. There is almost too much to see.

Thankfully I have the rest of my life.

Meridian clears her throat and I realize I've lost myself in a mental tangent.

"Sorry." I apologize with a faint blush.

She inclines her head the way she does, obviously not wanting me to speak but at the same time wanting me to pay attention to her. Girls.

**11. Now**

My brother and I are having dinner together. It's not particularly odd—the great hall is tragically empty even when all the students and faculty are present, and it's not taboo to sit amongst your peers. The unwritten rule is that Monday nights are house nights, but other than that people are free to sit wherever.

Berwald and I typically have dinner together on Sunday evenings. Dinner involves Berwald sitting at the Hufflepuff table shoveling food into his mouth and doing his damn best not to let his eyes roam down the table to fix on Tino.

I'm not sure if he doesn't want to be caught staring at such a close range or if he feels guilty because this is little-brother-Hufflepuff-time and not staring-at-Tino-Hufflepuff-time. I'd guess the latter because my brother feels responsible for stupid things like that.

"Why don't you ask him?"

Berwald whips his gaze so fast to me that I'm scared he's snapped his own neck. He doesn't say anything, just stares at me with those all-seeing eyes.

I tiled my head slightly in Tino's direction. "Have you ever just asked him out?"

Berwald flushes. I grin. "No? _Really?_ But you're so—"

"Shush." Berwald interrupts. He doesn't tell me to shut up because Auntie does, and while Auntie's never physically hurt me Berwald knows I react to certain words.

"But Berwald, you don't know if you don't ask."

He blushes again, a little darker this time, and starts mumbling under his breath. I'm afraid I can't tell you what hilarious sentimental bullshit he spouted because the volume was so low I couldn't understand a word.

"Just ask." I interrupt, because family has to love you no matter how rude you are.

He grumbles.

I poke him with my spoon. "Do it."

"No."

"Do it!" I nudge him more forcefully.

"No."

My brother is so shy. "C'mon, Berwald. Why not?"

"Cause." He states, as if his word is complete law.

"Berwald." I roll my eyes.

We go back to our food, thinking. Maybe the deep, introspective maudlin thoughts are genetic.

"Mama and Papa would want you to be happy." I state softly.

Berwald sighs heavily, setting his utensils down.

"They would. Can you imagine how Mama would react to Tino?"

Berwald snorted. "She'd attack him. He's too cute."

I chuckled. "So just ask him?"

Berwald frowned, looking down at his plate. "Now?"

"No time like the present." I confirm.

Berwald musters up his courage and I decide to toss in one last word.

"I like him, too." I say. "He's really nice—helped me get settled and stuff. I think you two would be… good."

Berwald looks at me, really looks, and I can see that my approval means a lot to him. I knew it would. Berwald is rather weird like that, but he's my brother and I guess I'm stuck with him.

"Go, Berwald."

And he does.

**12. Freedom**

I am a moron. In case you're wondering why, I should have set up Berwald and Tino _ages _ago. As soon as I got here. They've been making doe eyes at each other constantly since Berwald asked him out. It's awesome. Let me explain why.

1. It grosses Mathias out. I can't stand Mathias, and neither can Berwald. So what if Berwald is a little sappier when Mathias is around to witness it? Berwald happy Mathias unhappy = Aron satisfied, job well done.

2. Aron is _left alone. _When Berwald comes to the common room, I get a nod and then Tino is there to distract him. Why didn't I think of this before? We still have dinner on Sundays, of course, but Berwald stares lovingly down the table at Tino who stares right back. It'd be sickening but Berwald seems so much lighter—my brother's had a lot on his plate. He deserves some happiness.

3. Berwald is happy. I mentioned above that he deserves it, but I actually need to list it because this is a list.

4. Tino is suddenly helping me with my homework. Tino is _brilliant _at transfiguration. I suck at transfiguration. Obviously this is advantageous. And then Berwald finds us studying and helps me, too. It's like their impressing each other with their academic knowledge and all this helping me succeed. Fuck yes.

Okay, that's all I can think of at the moment. Number two is by far the best consequence. I am a damn genius.

Although number four is really nice, too. I didn't expect that to happen, but the Dickhead is definitely jealous of my newfound transfiguration skills. Meridian knows what's going on because I told her, and Kylee and Peter are doing whatever Gryffindors do. I don't really know.

**13. Light**

Meridian… is a boy…

This whole time… Hisnickname is Meridian for some reason he explained that I don't understand at all, something to do with equality and balance and artistic expression through self-identity and fuck if I understand.

Kurt is his actual name.

Fuck.

**14. Dark**

I think I'm gay.

Eleven is too young for this.

I am so confused.

Kurt shouldn't still be attractive, you know, unless I was attracted to boys. But the Dickhead is not attractive at all. Or Kirkland. Ew. Maybe it's just a Kurt thing.

But Kurt is like, attractive. Exceedingly so. And Kylee isn't really, you know, I don't know. She's not ugly but she's never been as interesting as Meri and I'm not sure whether to keep calling Kurt Meri or call him Kurt or what to do. Do you think maybe I'm bisexual, 'cause I like Meri as a girl and I like Kurt as a guy? Kurt-sexual?

Come to think of it, I've never seen Meri in a skirt. So I'm just stupid for never noticing. I wonder if Meri knows I never knew? That would be awkward.

**15. Sky**

Kurt and I are sitting outside on a beautiful Saturday; we're leaning against the biggest tree by the lake, and I'm staring up at the sky while Kurt is watercoloring. I can tell he's working on the lake. I might have failed to mention this earlier, but Kurt is really good at art. Really, really good.

I normally will talk more than I am today, but I feel kind of stupid. My iPad rests in my lap, and I stare down blankly at the screen because I just don't know what to do.

Kurt clears his throat, breaking me from my self-conscious rambling.

"Aron."

I don't say anything, just frown at my iPad. Because I'm embarrassed and slightly uncomfortable and I don't want to offend my best friend.

"I don't care if you call me Meri or Kurt." Kurt continues, as if my blatant silence is completely normal. "But I do wonder why you aren't paying attention to me."

I shuffle awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

And Kurt smacks his paintbrush across my face.

"W-What?"

Kurt glowers at me. "Speak, imbecile."

I stutter incoherently, and my hand automatically moves up to wipe the paint off my face.

Kurt makes a disapproving noise and smacks my hand away.

"I'm going to call you Kurt now." I mumble.

"Okay. Good." Kurt replies.

We sit in silence for a moment.

"Can I take the paint off my fac—"

"No."

**16. Find**

I don't know if our peers know Kurt's gender or not, but they still call him Meri and he doesn't seem to care, and I am relieved he was never offended by my stupidity.

Kurt just does his thing, doodling during class and doodling when we hang out and doodling while we eat.

During DADA I catch him staring at me. It's not just staring—he's scrutinizing me.

"What?" I whisper quietly.

He's fumbling through his colored pencils with a furrowed brow.

"You're a pain to color."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"Your hair." He says, as if that explains everything.

I blink, and immediately one hand goes to my head to run a hand through the aforementioned difficulty.

"What about it?"

"It's not just red." Kurt mumbles. It's strawberry blond, and it is annoying."

I'm not exactly sure what to say, so I open my mouth to speak and he cuts me off.

"Don't you dare apologize," he grumbles. "Not for such a lovely challenge."

I close my mouth shortly after that, and return my attention to the lecture.

Kurt's attention doesn't leave his work. Kylee lectures him sometimes about the importance of schoolwork, but all of us know Kurt's future lies in his art. It'd be a shame for him to waste his obvious talent.

I wish I had something I was particularly good at. I mean, I'm only eleven, but Kurt's artwork is so professional he could sell it. I don't know if he does or not.

I don't know that much about Kurt's family—I know he has an older cousin who was also a Ravenclaw, only because he married some girl that was a Hufflepuff and everyone still raves about how sweet Elizabeta was.

I can feel Kurt's gaze on me during the entire lesson. Not on me, but on my hair. I'm sure I'm blushing, and I'm sure Kurt notices because my face will have changed color and artists notice stupid details like that, but at this point I don't really care.

Again, we're only eleven. I'm not sure what I'm looking for, but Kurt is here and he's Kurt and I am terrible at finding the right words to describe him and what this thing between us is. If there is a thing. I'm not sure if I'm making things up or if there really are amorous intentions here or not.

**17. Box**

Auntie's dead.

Mathias barges into the great hall and punches Berwald in the face as hard as he can and starts spewing bullshit about how it's all our fault for moving in with them in the first place, when they're the ones that _invited _us.

Berwald takes the punch with grace. He and I can both tell how upset Mathias is, and has every right to be, and we also recognize that there is some truth to what Mathias says even if he's wrong, too.

The muggles still do rounds, checking on people who had immigrants move in with them. Auntie must have been found guilty. I don't know how it works, exactly, but the muggles are biased anyway and it's almost an excuse these days.

Suddenly the upcoming summer seems daunting. Berwald will most likely want to be with Tino, and I know Tino's from Finland but not which part, and I don't really want to go with Berwald and Tino and watch them make lovey-dovey faces all summer.

Mathias storms out, and one of Berwald's friends from Ravenclaw calmly follows after him.

I make eye contact with Berwald and he shrugs. I frown. We never liked Auntie, but that doesn't mean we wanted this.

Kurt is drawing at the Ravenclaw table and ignores my attempts to catch his eye. I stare at my plate and don't finish my dinner.

**18. Pieces**

My feelings for Kurt come second to my worries about the summer. Berwald is insisting I need to go with him to Finland, protective older brother he is, and I don't want to be some additional baggage.

I'm always additional. No one has ever really paid me any mind—in class, the Dickhead and Kirkland draw the most attention because of their ridiculous rivalry, and Kylee is the only girl and works very hard for her grades and receives the most compliments. Kurt gets chastised for lack of proper focus. I'm the one who is both quiet and relatively smart, and I don't really get much feedback at all besides nods of approval.

Sometimes I wish Mama and Papa were alive. I say "sometimes," because I know they're dead and there's no point in dwelling, but I used to think about it a lot at Auntie's house. I wonder what they'd think about me.

They'd be proud of Berwald— the big, strong, smart, dependable, in-love-with-Tino-and-going-to-adopt-grandkids older brother. I have no idea what they would think about me.

I spent more time on the internet than with people. I'm not particularly good at anything. I'm not failing any classes, but floating at solid EE's and sometimes Outstandings, but nothing that makes me stand out from the crowd.

Average. I'm just an average Hufflepuff.

Mathias takes his anger out on Berwald, not me. He hasn't said a word to me. I've heard him say things to Berwald about me, but he's never touched me. Probably because Berwald would fight back if I got hurt.

I just have all these feelings and I have no one to turn to. Just my imaginary audience. Which is so _lame,_ to borrow Kirkland's terminology.

Kurt hasn't spoken to me in three days. I have no idea what I did, if anything. I wonder if the silent treatment is revenge for the fact I thought he was a girl.

**19. Search**

Instead of class, I climbed out of the Astronomy tower's window and am sitting on the roof, staring at the sky.

I like flying, but I'm not into Quidditch. I just like being in high places.

I feel like a pansy.

I have no idea what I'm doing, but I absolutely cannot bear the thought of class today. I'll probably get a detention, but I don't care. I just need some peace.

It's a nice day—my cloak is off and I've loosened my yellow striped tie and got rid of that atrocious sweater vest. The sky is beautiful.

I love the sky. It's no only beautiful as a reflection of the Earth's surface, but the atmosphere leads to space, and space fascinates me. I've often wondered if the solution to all this magical drama lies in leaving Earth—we've got magic, why not create a new, inhabitable planet where we don't need to hide?

The spells would be ridiculously complicated. I'll have to do some research.

"Aron?"

My train of thoughts is interrupted; Kurt's head is sticking out of the window and he looks furious. For someone so typically expressionless, it's a bit of a surprise.

I wave, a little cocky salute that is sure to irritate him.

Instead, he looks relieved.

"What?"

"We've been looking for you since potions ended." Kurt hums. "Why did you skip? Malfoy wasn't happy."

I sigh. "Can you blame me for skipping double potions on such nice day?"

"No." Kurt is laying besides me now, his cloak off and draped on top of mine as he abandons it to relax.

"So you're talking to me now?" I can't help but question.

"Mm." He responds in his infuriatingly vague manner.

I sigh again and return my gaze to the clouds.

I stiffen when I feel Kurt take my hand.

"Aron." He mumbles. "What am I going to do with you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" I grumble. "I haven't done _anything—_"

"I know." He sighs. "Waiting by the sidelines, patiently wanting without any pressure placed on me."

I don't respond.

"Aron." He breathes. "It's okay to want."

"I know that!"

"It's okay to show your feelings."

"I—"

He silences me with a finger to my lips. "If you tell me you didn't want to bother me, I might be angry."

He moves his finger and I don't continue my sentence.

"I thought so." Kurt sighs. "My overly considerate Hufflepuff."

I don't reply, and he tugs my head to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about your Aunt." He says softly.

I stiffen. "She wasn't really my Aunt."

"I know. But I'm still sorry."

"I didn't really like her. She was kind of mean."

"But you loved her."

"I…" I pause, taking in a deep breath. "Yeah. A bit."

"Aron." Kurt turns so we're facing each other, and one of his hands brushes under my eyes. I'm crying.

I jerk back immediately, but Kurt is stronger than he looks.

"It's okay to cry."

"S-She wasn't really my Aunt."

"I know." He pulls me back to his chest, and this time I bury my head in his stupid sweater vest that for some reason looks good on him but makes me look like a douchebag.

I relieve my emotions on his shoulder.

"Sorry." I mumble hoarsely once the tears are dried.

Kurt doesn't respond, just brushes his hand through my hair.

"I'm going to fall asleep if we stay like this." I complain tiredly.

"Okay."

When I wake up, it's dark. I have no idea how long we've been out here.

My cloak is draped over me. I yawn, and turn my head to see Kurt buried in a sketchbook.

"Whatcha doing?" I sleepily ask, crawling towards where he's working.

For the first time, Kurt spins his sketchbook around without further pestering. It's… me.

"Finally got your hair right." He seems satisfied.

"Oh."

We sit in silence for a minute before Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Are you going to kiss me or not?"

I blush. "Kurt, I—"

He kisses me before I can say anything else.

Kurt pulls away, and I find myself at a loss for words. I'm sure my entire face is red.

Kurt looks amused. "Well, we _are _in the astronomy tower…"

"We're _eleven!" _I shriek.

And Kurt laughs so hard I'm worried he might fall and I pull him back into the tower. He's still chuckling when I get our cloaks back on.

He smirks at me, and I take a step back because it is _predatory. _

"Adolescence is a time of exploration, Aron. Premarital promiscuity is common."

"Oh my god." He has me backed against a wall. "K-Kurt, I um, I—"

Another finger against my lips.

"Sex is an exploration of one of the most base human acts and instincts, and through its portrayal the creative process comes to life." Kurt whispers.

I'm pretty sure my eyes cannot be wider.

Kurt smiles gently at me. "I know you aren't ready, Aron. Neither am I. I wanted to tell you my feelings on the subject."

"Right. Okay, then."

I fumble with the clasp of my cloak, looking anywhere but at the boy who just kissed me.

"You have an erection." Kurt observes.

"Yes, thanks. Thanks for noticing that." I try to grumble, although my face is burning and my chest feels lighter than it has in ages.

Kurt smiles again, and I can't help but kiss him. I'm a bit surprised with myself when I pull away, but Kurt appears pleased.

"You're my boyfriend now." I blurt out.

He raises a brow. "Obviously."

I grin at him as he collects his art supplies, and we leave the tower together.

**20. Limits**

Kurt invited me to spend the summer with him, and Berwald reluctantly agrees because he knows Kurt's cousin (only time will tell if that's a good or bad thing.)

Kylee is thrilled when she catches Kurt and I holding hands. Apparently she's been badgering Kurt about me for ages.

The Dickhead teases us, and to everyone's surprise Kirkland is the one who punches him in the face. The Dickhead apologizes, and Kurt's reading over my shoulder as I type this and telling me to include the fact that he refers to the Dickhead as Sebastiano and if I know what's good for me, I will too. Fuck.

Tino thinks we're cute, and much to Kurt's amusement and my horror he gave Kurt a package of condoms and a bottle of lube. Tino apparently gave Kurt a dissertation about the merits of sexual spells versus actual products, and Kurt ensures me it was fascinating. I am so embarrassed, and Berwald looked pretty mortified the last time I checked, too. Brothers just don't want to know some things.

I still don't know what's going to happen to the world, but I think I'll be okay.

* * *

A/N: The prompts come from Hetachallenge's Random box on livejournal. Thanks for reading!


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